Soliloquy
by Shadows Underground
Summary: Another one in the Blackwood/Coward vein. "From above, dark eyes watched him."


Posted first on lj; written for Anneka Neko upon request. Contains solo sex and something akin to voyeurism.

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_A bene placito._

**Soliloquy**

It was a place from which he couldn't stay away because it had captured within its concrete walls memories of the fantastic, of the spell under whose power he succumbed even now. He made his way hesitantly into the dimly lit chamber—if he parted his lips and inhaled, he could still taste soul-stirring energy that, wielded by his master, had so intoxicated him mere days before.

More so than with the efficiency of the kill, Coward had been impressed by the absolute, godlike control that his Lord had exhibited over the entire ritual, Coward himself included. Great men had followers, and by this logic Lord Blackwood was a great man, and though of this fact Coward needed no confirmation, the very thought, the very reminder reduced him to the state of needing the attention of his Lord in order to subsist.

With methodical hesitation, Coward kneeled in the place where he was positioned on that night, imagined that he was once again gazing reverently at his master, immersed in the presence of His greatness, awed by the sheer perfection of the one he loved…

Coward shook his head suddenly, banishing that thought. A deep desire that could never be fulfilled, he knew, and it stung, but he was no fool to hold in such regard the dream—the _fallacy_—that he would ever be Lord Blackwood's lover. _Lover_ implied equality between partners, and he and his Lord were far from equal; Coward had never fancied himself a god. When he was with Lord Blackwood, their roles were master and servant, and Coward was _okay_ with that as long as he had his Lord's presence to dazzle and distract him from the torturous emotions that burned inside him.

However, in no one's company but his own, he was ineluctably enslaved by these his own forbidden desires: a soft sadness that followed him, hung over him, constantly told him _No_—and this turmoil deepened a hatred for himself while inducing him to love Lord Blackwood all the more.

He found that his breathing had sped up; even as his knees grew sore where they were pressed against the hard surface of the floor, his desires overcame him, and ignoring every cautious and sensible part of himself, he began opening his shirt. He ran his fingers lightly down his chest, imagining that it was his Lord touching him, and he closed his eyes. The garment slipped off his shoulder and he discarded it, flinging it a few meters away from him and collapsing onto his back. His own fingers caressed his throat, his other hand pressed against his chest where he could feel his nipple hard against his palm. It trailed lower—over his belly and lower toward his groin, where his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants to rest upon the hot skin of his pelvis. With sharp, heavy breaths he reached down with his right hand and desperately pulled at the obstacle of his clothing, forcing it open so that he, raising his hips, could unclothe himself there as well.

Stripped bare, he hesitated, debating whether or not it was _right_, whether it was _sacrilege_, but eventually deciding he didn't care, he stroked himself lightly.

From above, dark eyes watched him, shielded from sight by the elongated shadows that blanketed this underworld. Lord Blackwood placidly observed his servant, a moan rising through the air and floating to his ears. He watched, unblinking, as Coward slipped two fingers into his mouth, sucking them shamelessly, wetting them thoroughly, before reaching between his legs and shoving them into his entrance.

"Ah!" he cried out, hissing as he forced his digits deeper, eyes squeezed shut, lips quivering in pace with his breathing. Blackwood watched him, eyes narrowing when he heard Coward moan, "Lord Blackwood!"

Blackwood's grip tightened on the handrail, the sight of his servant pleasuring himself both attracting and repulsing him, causing an unconscious, fractional quickening of his breathing. Coward's other hand wrapped around his erection, moving up and down in time to the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. His body rocked gently in response to the motions of his hands, a whine-like moan climbing from sealed lips.

After the initial few minutes of experimentation, Coward became much more vocal, his moans reverberating up to Blackwood without restraint. Blackwood shifted slightly, peering over the railing, denying himself the confession that he was trying to get a better view. Coward cried out, louder now, straining to force his fingers in deeper, obviously beginning to hit his prostate but without the strength with which he longed to do so. He curled in on himself, pulled his spread legs closer to him, and Blackwood knew when he had accomplished his goal.

It was as though his self-control had been obliterated. He gave a whorish cry of ecstasy, his back trying to arch without dislodging his probing fingers. Loudly he screamed Blackwood's name, moaning kinkily, "Yes…like that, oh, _please_, master…" and Lord Blackwood could only guess what Coward was imagining right now.

Coward, in a way that seemed most unlike him, continued his utterances of sexual monologue, wishing dirty, filthy things upon himself, begging his vision of Blackwood to taint his willing body, to ravage him until he can do nothing but scream.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, Blackwood considered going down there and making his servant's dreams come true, taking advantage of that squirming little body and redefining the meaning of rough sex.

But he restrained himself, exercised the control over himself that Coward both worshipped and lacked, made himself stay and watch the scene before him. Coward's twisting body shuddered and his hand was coated in his cum, and from his lips sprang that blessed name: "Lord Blackwood!"

Coward came down from the high his release, his cheeks rosy and a look of pure bliss on his face, and Lord Blackwood didn't know whether to punish him later for his performance of such lewdness or to reward him for his devotion.

The man lying on the floor pulled his fingers out of his body with a groan, his smiling lips continually forming the whispered words "Lord Blackwood, Lord Blackwood…" He sighed, and Blackwood, deciding that he had seen enough, turned on his heels and with haste retreated to the surface of the world.

He was gone before he could hear Coward's soft "I love you."

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© Shadows Underground 2010


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